Hazel Ireson (UK)
In 1948, when I was three years old, my mother took me to the Hilda Greenaway School of Dancing, in Charlton, South East London.
It was a thriving school with many classes. I think my mother was a frustrated dancer; she was an orphan and had been brought up under very difficult circumstances, but she loved ballet and its music.
Hazel Ireson as a child.
[Competitions] were area-based and very well attended. There were classes for ballet, national, tap, character, and modern; from beginners like me to those who eventually went onto professional dancing.
My first solo was interesting. I was four years old and danced to Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star wearing a pink tutu. In the studio, I had danced facing my teacher, but no one explained what being on a stage would be like. My teacher stood in the wings and I danced to her, of course. Even though my dance was sideways on, I was awarded a bronze medal – for effort I guess! We all loved competitions because we had such wonderful costumes made for us all.
During a course at the City of London College when I was 20, I joined the dance group [at Toynbee Hall]. This was a much more modern dance group, often with original choreography.
In our first appearance at Toynbee Hall I was part of the classical ballet group and really enjoyed it. After that, I was persuaded – against my better judgement – to dance a duet with one of the men. In hindsight, I should definitely have refused, but it seemed flattering at the time. I was hardly heavy, but he was quite slight and the lifts were a disaster! It was truly embarrassing on the night and I stopped dancing from that time on for 40 years.
I heard about classes locally and wondered whether I could still dance. I went to my first lesson and was amazed to know that I could. I still knew where my limbs were (or should be) and the teacher complimented me on my arm positions, so off I went. All those barre exercises, still the same, just slotted back into the brain and it was wonderful. That adult ballet class is still going after 17 years.
When young, I think the discipline of the teacher was important, and the detail in teaching you from the beginning the right way to tackle the exercises. I can still see the class at the barre in the studio, and even at such a young age, we took it seriously. Much later in life, the most important qualities in a teacher are enthusiasm and the right choice of music (we all like the classical ballet approach here!) It’s also vital to receive encouragement, so that whoever you are, whether or not you have ever danced before, you can dance to your own individual ability, and sometimes surprise yourself about what you can achieve.
[My proudest moment as a dancer] was probably winning the Festival Junior Champion Cup, aged 11, at one of the area dancing competitions. Secondly, dancing in front of my husband for the first time when I was in my mid-60s at a ‘workshop’ event. He said he felt very moved.
It is very satisfying going back to and remembering the basics [as a Silver Swan]. In my class, there are people like me who have danced way back and others who come to ballet for the first time. I really admire these ladies. Our teacher, Lucy, is so encouraging and makes the lesson fun whilst learning and working quite hard.
It is more gentle [than a regular adult class], the time spent at the barre is shorter and the dances easier for the group. There is more explanation obviously, but you can see beginners really enjoy the experience, and we are a happy group. No one is bothered about what anyone else is doing, so it’s very freeing.
It is a wonderful exercise for mind and body. You are part of a team and you will have fun and probably surprise yourself about how much you can do. It is never too late, and Silver Swans is the perfect place to start.
I just hope I can continue to dance. At 73 I don’t do a lot of jumping, but the new knee is bionic and better than the other one, so if I have to have a second replacement knee I know I can still dance.
The fairy tale dream future? Being the Queen in Swan Lake or The Sleeping Beauty, walking about regally on the stage, and miming dressed in those fantastically beautiful costumes.